Casualty of School
by Kooshball
Summary: Another random Izzy fic. BJ decides Izzy needs to be school before the end of the war, but Izzy isn't happy with the idea. Some swearing.


It was while the Swamp was still being repaired (**Note:** see chapter 38 of "Not a TV Show") that Izzy told Hawkeye and BJ how she got expelled from school, just before she left home.

'I had gotten some fireworks from my boyfriend, he could get his hands on all sorts of illegal stuff,' Izzy explained, carefully re-arranging her hand-made quilt. 'I took them into the principal's office during a school assembly, and lit them. Caused a huge mess, and set the room alight. The whole school had to be evacuated while the fire brigade put everything else.'

'No way you did that,' Hawkeye said with a laugh.

'She's all talk,' BJ said to his friend. Izzy looked up.

'I'm not kidding,' she said seriously. 'I'd have gotten away with it, except I'd burnt my hand lighting the damn things, and had to see a teacher about it.' She grinned at the surgeons as they laughed about it.

'So they expelled you?' BJ asked. Izzy nodded.

'I managed to keep it from my mum, she'd have killed me if she found out,' Izzy said. 'It wasn't too hard, I just had to pretend to go to school, and get the notices in the mail before she did.' Hawkeye looked at his watch, then stood up.

'It's getting late,' he said. 'Colonel Potter doesn't like being woken up in the middle of the night.'

'Night, Hawk,' BJ said, stretching out on his cot. Lights were switched out, and as BJ listened to Izzy move around restlessly, he came up with an idea. He'd start classes for Izzy, to make up for everything she didn't learn on the streets. All he had to do was get the Colonel's permission, and that'd be easy enough.

* * *

'BJ, what the hell is this?' Izzy demanded a few days later, pointing to the scrap of paper on the notice board. 'I hope this is a joke.' 

'What's a joke?' Hawkeye asked, coming up behind the girl. '_Looking for personnel to teach Private Parker classes. See Captain Hunnicutt for details._' He turned to BJ, a grin on his face. 'Are you serious?' he asked.

'I'm starting tutoring for Izzy,' BJ said. 'Is there a problem with that?' Hawkeye and BJ headed for the Mess as Izzy reread the notice a second and third time.

'You can't be serious,' Izzy said, catching up to them. 'I've been out of school too long to start studying again now.'

'You'll be great,' BJ said, opening the Swamp door.

'So are there any open positions left?' Hawkeye asked as they settled themselves around the tent.

'Sport is still here,' BJ said, pulling a list from his pocket. 'Everything else that might be important is gone.'

'I'll do sports!' Hawkeye said loudly.

'So who is doing what?' Izzy asked, determined to talk the "teachers" out of taking classes. BJ handed the list to Izzy. She stopped when she got to her new history teacher. 'No way,' she said. 'There is no way Frank Burns is going to teach me any subject.'

'You've got Frank teaching something?' Hawkeye asked, snatching the list from Izzy. 'And, hey look! Potter is teaching you art!'

'This is serious,' Izzy said. 'Frank hates me, ever since we convinced him I was related to a famous General.'

'It'll be fine,' BJ said, but he sounded unsure himself.

'So when do classes start?' Hawkeye asked himself, handing the list back.

'Tomorrow,' BJ declared, folding the paper up and putting it back in his pocket.

'Great,' Izzy said, not sounding at all happy.

* * *

_**First class – Sewing with Klinger**_

'So you actually agreed to this?' Izzy asked, looking bored as Klinger set up his materials.

'Actually, BJ came to me, and asked if I could take you for this,' Klinger said, smoothing out some satin. 'He said none of the nurses would have the same skill as me in this area.'

'That's what every guy wants to hear about himself when it comes to sewing,' Izzy said, one eyebrow raised. Klinger ignored the comment.

'Pick some material,' he instructed. 'And pick a pattern.' Izzy chose some thick, brown material, and found a pattern for some pants that would have looked modern with a few of her own modifications.

'I hate sewing,' Izzy said a few minutes later. 'It's too girly for me. I don't know how you do it.'

'A skirt might be easier,' Klinger suggested when he saw what she'd picked.

'I'll be ok,' Izzy said. An hour later, she had finished the pants, and was holding them up to her waist to see if they looked ok.

'Um, Izzy,' Klinger said.

'Yeah?' she asked.

'There's something wrong with them pants,' he said to her. She looked at them, then back at Klinger, not seeing a problem. Klinger pointed out to her that they were too short.

'No, they're not,' she said. 'They're three quarters.'

'It's hard to get a section eight with you around,' Klinger said, shaking his head. 'Anyway, it's time for your next class.' Izzy pulled her timetable from her pocket.

'Hell,' she muttered. 'School is not my idea of a fun time.'

* * *

_**Second class – Sports with Hawkeye**_

'Hawkeye, if I had wanted to be your caddy, I'd have offered to,' Izzy muttered, forty minutes later. She was lugging Hawkeye's golf bag on her back, the surgeon looking for the old golf course he and Trapper had set up at the beginning of the war.

'You're not caddying. You're learning,' Hawkeye said. He set up a tee, and grabbed one of the clubs from the bag. He hit the ball, Izzy watching, unimpressed. 'Here, you have a go,' he said, handing her the club. He set up another tee and stepped back. 'Get your arms straight, relax, and swing.'

Izzy swung and missed the ball. 'Now I know why Happy Gilmore acted like he did,' Izzy muttered, swinging again.

'Maybe you should just caddy,' Hawkeye said, taking the club from her.

'BJ!' Izzy yelled when she saw the other surgeon, making Hawkeye hit his golf ball in the wrong direction. It blew up in the minefield, but the three ignored it.

'This isn't really what I had in mind when you said you'd teach PE,' BJ said to Hawkeye, eyeing the golfing equipment. 'Come on, Izzy, I think I know of something more your style.'

'Great,' Izzy said enthusiastically, dropping the golf bag quickly.

'Hey, bring back my caddy!' Hawkeye yelled, following the two back to camp. BJ led Izzy to Father Mulcahy's tent, and knocked on the tent door.

'Yes?' the priest asked, sticking his head out a moment later.

'You know how I've set up classes for Izzy?' BJ asked. Father Mulcahy nodded. 'I thought Izzy would prefer learning how to box instead of caddying Hawkeye,' BJ continued. 'As PE, you see.' Father Mulcahy looked a little unsure.

'Are you sure she's up to it?' he asked.

'I don't mind learning to box,' Izzy said excitedly. 'It's better than carrying around Hawkeye's clubs while Hawkeye plays golf.'

'Well, if you think it is ok,' Father Mulcahy said. He still sounded unsure. 'I mean, it's not really a women's sport.' Izzy looked slightly offended.

'Come on!' she said. 'I can do anything a guy can!' Father Mulcahy finally nodded.

'I'll do it,' he said with a little more confidence. Izzy grinned with delight. BJ glanced at his watch.

'Next class,' he said, tapping the face of his watch. Izzy groaned.

* * *

_**Third Class – Art with Potter**_

'Paints, canvas, brushes, subject,' Potter said. 'Go ahead and paint.' Izzy looked down at the paints and brushes, and then looked at the empty army surplus cans on Potter's desk.

'Surely there's something more interesting to paint than that,' she said finally. 'Can I use my imagination?' she asked. Potter shrugged.

'Go ahead,' he said. 'Just as long as you paint something.' Izzy grinned and thought of what she could paint. After a few minutes thought, she put the brush down.

'Why did you offer to teach me art?' she asked. Potter looked up from the letter he was writing home.

'I don't know,' he said. 'To give a good impression on the rest of them I guess. I'm just no good at anything else.'

'I'd rather not do any classes at all, sir,' Izzy said respectfully.

'I didn't think you would,' Potter admitted.

'Why'd you agree to it, then?' Izzy asked.

'It gives the others things to do,' he said. 'It's better than gluing everything in my office onto the roof.' Izzy grinned. That had been her idea, and it had taken her, Hawkeye and BJ all night. Potter had flipped and put Izzy on double bed pan duties for a month. It had been worth it though.

'Maybe I could skip art and use this time as a break?' Izzy suggested. 'I could, I don't know, use it help around camp.' Potter smiled.

'You really are desperate not to do this,' he said. Izzy nodded, taking her timetable out of her pocket. Her face suddenly fell.

'Sir, if you would, could you please come to my next class?' she asked.

* * *

_**Fourth class – History with Frank**_

'Now,' Frank said, slamming the crop hard on the table. 'Who was America's eighth president?'

'He's not allowed to use that, right?' Izzy asked Potter worriedly. The mess tent had been cleared for Izzy's history class, as the Swamp was still down, and Izzy refused to let Frank into her tent.

'So that's where my riding crop went,' Potter said, taking the crop from Frank.

'But sir, I need it to maintain discipline!' Frank whined.

'You maintain discipline anywhere near me, Ferret Face, and I'll fill your cot full of mashed potatoes,' Izzy said, braver now the crop had gone.

'When was America settled?' Frank asked her when he realised he wasn't getting the riding crop back.

'I don't know,' Izzy said.

'Who wrote the American Anthem?' Frank yelled.

'Your mother? I have no idea,' Izzy said.

'Wrong!' Frank yelled gleefully.

'Lay off, I've never studied American History. I'm not even American,' Izzy said.

'Last chance,' Frank said. 'When was America declared independent?'

Izzy's face lit up. 'Oh, I kinda know this one. I did a poster on the French Revolution in year eight. America became independent just before the French Revolution, in 1789.'

'Huh, the French didn't know anything,' Frank sniffed. 'They don't even speak our language.'

'Frank, they helped America beat the English so you could become independent,' Izzy said. 'That's where they got their ideas of Freedom and the Rights of Man from.'

'I'd give her partial credit,' Potter said.

'You're impossible!' Frank yelled. 'I cannot teach you anything!' he stormed from the room.

'We'll find you a new history teacher,' Potter promised Izzy.

* * *

_**Fifth class – English with Radar**_

'So now all you have to do is write the report,' Radar said, fifteen minutes into Izzy's next class. He'd just finished explaining to her what she needed to do for a weekly report, and was letting her write her own. Izzy sat in front of the typewriter, wondering if she'd be thrown in an insane asylum if she asked what connection speed it had. She began typing slowly while Radar went about his own work.

'Finished,' she said, ten minutes before the end of her class. Radar took the piece of paper from her, and started reading it.

'What is this?' he asked.

'The report,' Izzy said. 'I thought I'd give it a little colour.' Radar started reading it out loud.

'_Captain Hunnicutt  
__Decided to start a school  
__For Private Parker._

_He got permission.  
__Surgeon, nursed, corpsmen alike  
__All agreed to teach._

_Private Parker was  
__Found to be illiterate  
__And there were problems._'

'What's wrong with that?' Izzy asked. 'A set of three haiku poems. You know, those little Japanese poems that have five syllables on the first line, seven on the second line, and five on the last line.' Radar continued reading.

'_There was a young soldier from Seoul,  
__Who's injuries were out of control.  
__It took Major Burns a week,  
__To fix every leak.  
__The soldier has now been deemed fit as a mole._'

'That guy in bed three,' Izzy said smugly. 'In limerick form, no less.'

'I don't think the army will accept this,' Radar said.

'You haven't read the final one,' Izzy said, pointing to the final poem on the page. 'This one is an acrostic poem.'

'_**K**orean peddler came and soon evicted from camp.  
__**O**R has been quiet for the last week or so.  
__**R**ewards for capture of enemy have been received.  
__**E**veryone's moral is reasonably high.  
__**A** new movie has been requisitioned.  
__**N**ew supplies have been lost.  
__**W**eather has created housing problems.  
__**A**ll problems have been solved by the Commanding Officer.  
__**R**eport written by Private Parker._'

'You can't send this in,' Radar said worriedly. Izzy shrugged.

'Whatever, my next class is on,' she said, skipping out quickly. Radar sighed, put more paper in the typewriter and started retyping the weekly report.

* * *

_**Sixth class – Maths with Margaret**_

Margaret put pen and paper in front of Izzy. On the paper were maths sums, ranging from simple addition to difficult algebra equations.

'You can't expect me to do this?' Izzy asked, looking up at Margaret sceptically. 'I've learnt all the maths I need.'

'Nonsense,' Margaret said.

'Margaret, out on the street, all I needed to know what how much food cost, and how much the stuff I sold was worth. As long as the stuff I sold was worth more than the cost of food, I was fine,' Izzy said.

'What about after the war. You can't go back to being a street kid,' Margaret said.

'Why not?' Izzy asked defensively. She knew it was true, but she knew the war wasn't due to end for over a year yet. She didn't want to have to think about what would happen for a while yet. Margaret hit the table with her hand.

'Dam nit, Parker!' she yelled. 'This has been organised for your own good, and you're just making everything difficult for yourself!' There was quiet between the two for a moment, and in the silence, helicopters could be heard coming over the mountain. Neither of them moved for a few seconds.

'They'll need you,' Izzy said quietly. Without a word, Margaret left her tent. As the door slammed behind the Major, Izzy pulled the sheet towards her to look at the questions. She picked up the pen, and started scribbling answers on it. Her hand writing was messy, and barely legible, but when Margaret came back to her empty tent several hours later, she found the sheet sitting on the table, completed and with just over half correct.

* * *

'I'm resigning from being a teacher,' Klinger told BJ the next day. 

'So am I,' Frank said.

'Frank, you were being completely unfair yesterday,' Hawkeye said.

'I don't know if we should trust Izzy with weekly reports, requisition forms, or anything else army,' Radar agreed.

'Come on guys, we can't give up on Izzy,' BJ pleaded.

'Never mind, Beej,' Izzy said, patting the surgeon on the shoulder. 'I told you, I'm too old to go back to school. Appreciate the thought, though.'

'We wouldn't have time to keep regular classes,' Potter said.

'I say we just forget the idea of schooling her. She's insolent, disrespectful, childish, and doesn't take it seriously,' Margaret said.

'Awww, and I thought you didn't like me,' Izzy cooed at Margaret. The others left the mess tent, leaving BJ and Izzy sitting at the table.

'I just wanted to make a difference in your future,' BJ said to her.

'Beej,' she said, unsure of what to say. 'I love that you guys care enough to try and make things better for me. I'm sorry it didn't work out. But school is not for me. Never was, never will be.'

'Is this meant to make me feel better?' BJ asked. Izzy grinned.

'No, but this is. I filled Frank's cot with mashed potatoes this morning. He threatened to hit me today, and I told him yesterday if he did threaten me, I'd fill his cot with mashed potato. I figure, by the time he goes to bed tonight, they'll have gone cold, sticky and horrible. It'll take him hours to scrub it from his cot.' BJ laughed.

'What was I thinking?' he asked. 'We've already taught you all the important things!'

* * *

**Kooshball note: **Send your comments this way, guys! A short sorry to Kitty Kat Chan, cos this is kind of a rip off of your fic "School of MASH", unfortunately since taken off FFN. 

I was thinking... If I owned MASH (which, unfortunately, I don't) and "Not a TV Show" was to become a movie or TV show (which, unfortunately, it's not), I think Emilie de Ravin (Claire, the pregnant Australian character from the TV show "Lost") would make the perfect Izzy. Whaddya think?


End file.
